


see you soon

by epoenine



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, M/M, i have no idea what to tag this as oh ym g od
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 04:12:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/epoenine/pseuds/epoenine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire opens the door and slips inside, offering the driver extra if he leaves right now. So he does, and the guy with his unreal blond hair stands at the side of the road, very clearly pissed off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see you soon

**Author's Note:**

> i watched a movie once

The snow comes down in big, thick flurries. It lands softly on the ground, mixing with the muddy water because of course it does, this is New York. It also lands in Grantaire's curly black hair, soaking it to his scalp.

"Shit," he mutters, trying to find a cab. His eyes focus in on the yellow car, and a man who looks like he has a stick up his ass. He walks towards them, shoulders hunched so he doesn't draw attention.

Grantaire opens the door and slips inside, offering the driver extra if he leaves right now. So he does, and the guy with his unreal blond hair stands at the side of the road, very clearly pissed off.

"Where to?" the driver asks, and Grantaire tells him the local airport. Once they arrive, Grantaire grabs his small bag and leaves, walking up to the glass doors.

He steps inside, and the air is considerably warmer in here. His eyes glance up to see his flight's been delayed. It's the middle of winter, what did he expect? It's also the holiday, the Saturday before Christmas, so of course the airport is packed.

After a while of searching, he finds an uncomfortable chair to sit in. Just as he reaches to get his phone, to type a quick text to Eponine, someone sits in front of him. Someone with curly blond hair and wearing a ridiculous suit and quite frankly looks very uptight. It's the angel guy.

Grantaire can't stop grinning as he says, "I feel like I've seen you before."

"Yeah, that's because you stole my fucking cab," the stranger replies.

"Careful, there's children around," is all Grantaire says, accompanied by a wink.

***

Grantaire boards his flight, not seeing that man again. He sits in the cramped coach section--a seat by the window. All he can think about is that guy--with his feminine face and his perfect cheekbones and his aristocratic nose. He thinks about things he probably shouldn't be thinking about, since he's never going to see him again.

Pulling out his phone, Grantaire opens Eponine's contact page, getting ready to text her, that is, until someone shouts at the back of the plane.

Grantaire knows this voice. He turns his head, and there the angel is, face flushed from anger. The flight attendant motions towards Grantaire's seat, and Grantaire turns his head around, quickly.

Then, the stranger comes and sits next to him, letting out an irritated huff.

"So we meet again," Grantaire says, grinning. His eyes crinkle at the corners and his smile is genuine.

"Yeah, must be some big cosmic joke," the man replies, brushing his blond hair out of his face.

"Shit gets stolen, get over it," Grantaire answers, still grinning. The man pulls out his laptop, opening an email draft. "We're about to take off, you may want to put that away soon."

"Yeah, no," he says.

Not even three seconds later, a flight attendant is at his side. "Excuse me, sir, we're taking off soon. Please turn off all electronic devices."

Grantaire just smirks.

The seatbelt sign blinks and indicates that they're taking off. Grantaire rests his head against the back of his seat, closing his eyes and waiting for the turbulence. The first time the plane jerks sharply, there's an intake of breath beside him.

Grantaire opens his eyes to find the stranger gripping the side of his armrest.

"Dude, are you okay?" Grantaire asks, eyebrows furrowing in concern.

"Holy shit, this is turbulence? What the fuck, how is that even real--Why is this happening?" the man asks through gritted teeth. His jaw is shut tightly after that. So, being the good samaritan that he is, Grantaire holds out a hand.

Eyeing it warily, the man takes it, squeezing it so hard that it hurts.

Once they get past the rough flying, Grantaire pries the man's fingers off his own.

"It's okay, it's over now," he says, gently. The man blushes, pulling his hand away. "Not an easy flier?"

"You could say that," the man says.

"I'm Grantaire." Grantaire offers him a hand, and the man reaches to shake it, the corners of his mouth lifted up.

"Enjolras," he replies.

"Enjolras," Grantaire repeats, pronouncing the en as a ridiculous moan. Enjolras' face flushes. He takes out a book from his bag, and Grantaire has to stifle a laugh.

"What?" Enjolras snaps, turning to his bookmarked spot.

"The Social Contract?" Grantaire asks, grinning madly. "You have got to be kidding me."

"As if you've read it," Enjolras replies.

"I have, actually. Fought with my professor about Rousseau until he cried," Grantaire says, tapping his fingers on the armrest.

"He did not," Enjolras says, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, he did. I have it on video," says Grantaire, looking back out the window.

"Then please, elaborate on why you think it's so horrible," Enjolras says, closing the book and arching his eyebrows.

The rest of the flight is spent bickering and no doubt annoying the other passengers.

***

When they stop in Columbus, Ohio, Enjolras is fuming. While he's off on the phone, Grantaire gets the details on why they stopped.

"What's the deal with the flight?" Enjolras asks, running a hand through his hair.

"Delayed. It'll probably be canceled, too," Grantaire replies, sighing.

"It won't be canceled," Enjolras says.

"Uh, yes it will be. I mean, winter in Chicago? We should have just stayed in New York. We won't be out of here until tomorrow night at the earliest," Grantaire says.

"You're so negative."

"Whatever," Grantaire says, grinning. "You have a place to stay?"

"The ground looks pretty nice," Enjolras replies.

"Come on, I know a guy."

***

"Only one room left?" Grantaire asks, just about done with this shit.

"Yeah, last one in the place," the man behind the counter answers. "Take it or leave it."

"Fine," Grantaire huffs, tossing the money over the counter. He and Enjolras walk up the stairs, stopping in front of a door so Grantaire can unlock it.

The door swings open, and they take in the surroundings. Two chairs, a TV, and a bed. Yes, only one.

"Well, this is just great," Enjolras mutters, turning to the bathroom. Grantaire hears the water turn on and decides to sit in one of the chairs, waiting for Enjolras to come out.

The shower doesn't last long, mostly because this hotel's so shitty that the hot water runs out in approximately two minutes. Enjolras comes out angry with long blond hair dripping in front of his eyes.

"I can, um--I can sleep on the floor, if you--" Grantaire starts, but Enjolras cuts him off.

"No, no, you paid. I'll be fine on the floor," Enjolras says.

"Or we could just not. Sleep on the floor. EIther of us."

"Share the bed?" Enjolras asks.

"I mean, you could have slept on the floor in the airport. Sharing it with me won't be that bad," Grantaire replies.

Enjolras considers. "If you try to cuddle, I swear to--"

"You think I'll be the one cuddling? Have you seen your limbs? They'll be wrapped around me as soon as your head hits the pillow." It's true, Enjolras is willowy, all limbs and no muscle.

Enjolras laughs, and Grantaire thinks that it's probably the highlight of his day.

In the morning, Grantaire's theory is proven true. They're facing each other, and Enjolras' face is pressed against the nape of Grantaire's neck. Their legs and arms are tangled, and hands are clasped.

Grantaire's breath hitches just before he wakes, and through the pale morning light he can see Enjolras' face. Instead of being cold and stoic, it's almost childlike. Almost innocent.

"Why are you holding my hand?" Enjolras mumbles, pulling his face away from Grantaire's. The look on it isn't happy, but it isn't irritated either. If anything, he looks amused.

"Why are you laying on me?" Grantaire retorts, because half of Enjolras' chest is draped over Grantaire's.

Enjolras sighs. "Fine." Then, he rolls off the bed and pulls on his shirt. "We should get breakfast. Isn't there a cafe down the road?"

"Yeah, you up for walking?" Grantaire asks, and Enjolras just nods.

***

Grantaire pays for coffee and for muffins, and Enjolras accepts them gratefully, because, well, Grantaire did steal his cab. The least he could do is buy him breakfast.

"How are you two doing today?" the waitress asks with an accent. "Out on a date?" Enjolras flushes and looks down at his coffee, avoiding Grantaire's eyes, which are staring at him.

"Um--No, we're not together. Just waiting for a flight," Grantaire explains, then purses his lips. The waitress blinks and then has a look of guilt on her face.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, my bad," she says. "You talking about the Chicago flight?" Grantaire nods while Enjolras sips his coffee. "Good luck. I heard it won't be out of here until five days from now--a blizzard's expected. The train won't be leaving until at least Christmas morning."

Enjolras sighs, and Grantaire says, "Thanks," grimly.

"Anyway, merry Christmas. I wish I could've helped," she says.

"You cool with trains?" Grantaire asks, once the waitress is gone.

Enjolras nods, then mumbles, "At least it not planes."

Grantaire finishes his drink and then gets up. "I guess we're spending Christmas together," he says, and Enjolras follows him out of the cafe.

"I guess so," he replies. Enjolras' face stays the same color red throughout the rest of the morning, and it only goes away once he gets back to the hotel and takes a shower.

***

Later that night, commonly known as Christmas eve, is spent eating pizza and trying not to argue about Rousseau. Grantaire bought cheap wine, and Enjolras indulges himself in a glass.

"Not much of a drinker?" Grantaire asks, refilling his plastic cup. Enjolras sits on his side of the bed, long, wet hair dripping onto his shirt and reading glasses perched on his nose as he holds a damaged book in front of him. Enjolras nods, taking a sip of his wine. "So, any Christmas stories worth sharing?" Grantaire asks, sitting next to Enjolras.

"I've spent Christmas with my friends ever since high school," Enjolras replies. "We just sat around and talked. Kind of like right now, I guess."

"I usually spend it with my friend Eponine. Her dad owns a pub, so that's always fun," Grantaire says, grinning.

There's a short silence. "What time does the train leave tomorrow?" Enjolras asks, turning back to his book.

"Early morning. We'll need to be up by 6 am, at least."

"We should sleep," is what Enjolras says.

"It's only 10," Grantaire replies, reluctantly climbing into bed with Enjolras, then switching off the light.

"Goodnight, Grantaire," Enjolras mumbles, but Grantaire is already asleep.

***

Light catches on Enjolras eyelashes, turning them white instead of dark blond. His mouth is slightly open, and his head is resting in the crook of Grantaire's neck while an arm is thrown across Grantaire's chest, holding the man's hand. Snow falls heavily outside, turning the world to white.

Enjolras doesn't move away from Grantaire's embrace when he wakes. Instead, he looks up at him, examining each imperfection. Birthmark on his jaw. Scar over his left eyebrow. Crooked nose. After a while, Enjolras comes to the conclusion that he likes them. And that's okay, to like something on a person. As long as it doesn't progress into something more.

Grantaire blinks his eyes open, looks at Enjolras, and makes a move to push himself away. Enjolras just holds tighter, settling his head back in that same spot.

"Merry Christmas," Enjolras whispers. Grantaire can feel the breath on his neck.

"Morning," Grantaire says, and then with a sudden urge of franticness, "did we miss the train?"

"No, but it's leaving soon," Enjolras replies, briefly shutting his eyes. "We should probably go." He makes no move to get up.

"Do you have the time?" Grantaire asks, and Enjolras only shakes his head, not moving to check it so that he can stay holding Grantaire. "You're quite affectionate in the morning."

Enjolras breathes a laugh, then quickly saying, "I can move, if you want," trying to amend.

"No, no. Cuddly Enjolras is the best by far," Grantaire says. He quickly dismisses the thought of wanting to wake up with him every day. They might not even see each other after this.

Something inside him sinks, and he sighs before deciding it's time to get up. He takes Enjolras' hand and moves his arm, then rolling off the bed once he's out of Enjolras' grasp.

Grantaire trudges to the bathroom, and when he gets there, he looks in the mirror for a minute. He points out each imperfection. Mole on his jaw. Acne scar on his forehead, accompanied by multiple that aren't as prominent. Crooked nose from all of the punches he's taken.

What a way to start the morning. Christmas, no less.

He washes his face and then changes his clothes, stepping out of the bathroom to find Enjolras still in bed, a sleepy smile on his face.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty," Grantaire says, packing away his things.

"It's Christmas, I'm allowed to sleep in," Enjolras retorts, his eyes still closed.

"We'll miss the train," Grantaire says. "I'll call a cab and get us some breakfast, okay? You get dressed."

"Okay," Enjolras sighs, rolling over onto his back.

Grantaire walks out the door before he has the urge to fall back into bed again.

***

The train is more or less Grantaire's worst idea, but at least they're getting to Chicago before New Year's.

"I've never even been on a train before," he says, sitting down in the seat. There's two, one on each side, and a window on the left. A door is on the right, and Enjolras stands in it. "It feels like Harry Potter." Enjolras rolls his eyes and moves to sit across from Grantaire, in the other seat. "Oh, like you haven't read all of the seven books and seen all of the eight movies?"

"I haven't, actually," Enjolras replies.

"Tough childhood, I assume?" Grantaire says, jokingly.

Enjolras shakes his head. "No, my childhood was fine. If anything, I was spoiled. But, you know, that stopped when I told them about my activist group."

"Your activist group?" Grantaire asks, bewildered.

"I want to change things," Enjolras says. Grantaire laughs, harshly. "Really."

"There's nothing you can change. For every child living in poverty that you save, there's ten more. You can't save them all," Grantaire says.

"I can try."

“You can’t,” Grantaire insists.

“You’re so cynical,” Enjolras says. “I don’t know how you can just not believe in anything.”

“I see the world how it is,” is what Grantaire replies with. “Family in poverty, mother unemployed. She then gets into prostitution and eventually drugs. While the children are starving, she blows all the money on heroin. Children don’t get the things they need. Simple.”

“You speak from experience,” Enjolras says, quietly.

“Yeah, actually. That’s exactly how it went,” Grantaire says.

“Sorry.”

“No big deal,” Grantaire replies. Then grinning, he says, “I escaped, didn’t I?”

"We're leaving," Grantaire says, bringing sandwiches and two water bottles. Enjolras accepts them, then says a thank you. The train comes to life, and then Enjolras freezes, skin going white as a sheet. "Oh, no."

Every muscle in Enjolras' body goes taught, and he's rigid as the train starts to move. Then, he closes his eyes tight and sets everything down, gripping his hands together.

"Hey, it's okay. We'll be out of here in no time. At least it isn't turbulence," Grantaire says, trying to be reassuring.

Enjolras nods, resting his head on Grantaire's shoulder. He holds onto Grantaire's hand, gripping it to the point of pain.

After the worst of it's over, Enjolras' sandwich is forgotten and he falls asleep on Grantaire, still holding his hand.

Grantaire follows, nodding off with the sound of the train as background noise. The feeling of Enjolras' warmth against him lulls him to sleep, and soon enough, the train is stopping and Grantaire is jolting awake.

"Enjolras," Grantaire whispers. "Enjolras, we're in Chicago. It's time to get off," he says, shaking Enjolras.

"Chicago?" Enjolras murmurs, then blinks his eyes open. He rubs them, and then stands, walking with Grantaire out of the train.

"You have a ride?" Grantaire asks as they step down the stairs. He's just trying to stall time, but Enjolras nods and stops walking, staying in the middle of the train station. Even though it's freezing, he doesn't want to leave yet.

"My friend Feuilly is coming," Enjolras says, wringing his hands together. His teeth chatter and he looks around, trying to make this less awkward.

"Maybe we'll be on the next flight together," Grantaire suggests, hope creeping into his voice. "How long are you staying?"

"New Years," Enjolras says, and Grantaire gets that sinking feeling again.

"I'm leaving in three days," Grantaire replies. "We'll get coffee sometime?" Enjolras nods, trying to rub his hands together. "Or we'll watch a movie or something, I don't care, talk to me about Roussseau for an hour--"

"We'll see each other again," Enjolras says, the look in his eyes determined; his cheeks are flushed, and he's still trying to warm up his hands.

"Now, you see," Grantaire says, taking Enjolras' hands in his own, warming them up himself. "This is why most people wear winter coats in Chicago, along with hats and gloves and scarves." Enjolras rolls his eyes, and cautiously, Grantaire brings Enjolras' stiff fingers up to his lips. He blows warm air on them, and Enjolras' cheeks get even more pink. Grantaire takes Enjolras' fingers away from his mouth, but he keeps them in his hands, thumbs brushing over Enjolras' knuckles.

Enjolras clears his throat and leans forward, close enough so that he can count Grantaire's eyelashes. "Can I kiss you?" he asks; Grantaire nods, and once his lips are on Enjolras', they can feel each other's smiles through the kiss.

Grantaire winds his fingers in Enjolras' hair, trying to draw him closer, pressing their bodies together. Enjolras pulls back and rests his forehead on Grantaire's, and his hands are still being held.

"We'll see each other again," Enjolras repeats, his voice strained. Then, he grins. "I don't think you'd mind, but I put my number in your phone while you were sleeping." Grantaire laughs, and that breaks them apart.

Behind Enjolras, a car honks its horn, and Enjolras looks over his shoulder.

"That's Feuilly--I, um, I have to go, but I'll see you in New York," Enjolras says, pressing another quick kiss to Grantaire's lips. Which leads to another. Which eventually leads to a long, drawn out one. "Goodbye, Grantaire," Enjolras says, almost breathless. He turns and gets in the green car.

"Goodbye," Grantaire whispers, turning around and heading for the bench, where he'll wait for Eponine and replay the last ten minutes over and over again.

***

"You were supposed to come yesterday, what the hell took you so long?" Eponine asks, looking at Grantaire with a fierce glare.

"My flight was delayed, if I still flew I wouldn't been here on the 29th," Grantaire says, scrolling through his phone until he sees Enjolras' contact page. He grins, then bites his lip to try and hide it.

"You're still coming to the party, right?" Eponine asks. "The one Bahorel's having. It's today, I told him I'd bring you."

"Yes, I'm going. Who else is?" Grantaire asks.

"Bahorel's bringing some ginger. Jehan will be here. Courfeyrac and this guy named Marius are coming." She pauses, smiling. "Joly and Bossuet are bringing Musichetta, and then two guys that Courfeyrac knows. I don't think you know them."

"Oh," Grantaire says. He's not paying attention, just staring at his phone, debating whether to text him or not.

"Yeah. Do you want to go home and change, or can we just go? I want to see Marius," Eponine says, brushing her hair behind her ear.

"Let's just go," Grantaire replies, resting his head against the window. He decides not to text him.

Eponine grins and turns onto the road that will take her to Bahorel's apartment.

***

"Eponine!" Bahorel shouts, picking her up and spinning her around. "I haven't seen you in forever, kid."

"Don't call me kid," she says, grinning and then hitting his shoulder playfully.

"How've you been, R?" Bahorel asks, grinning.

"Better," Grantaire replies truthfully. "Is Courfeyrac inside?"

"Yep," he says. "With some freckly guy named Marius. Prouvaire's coming in a bit. Joly, Bossuet, and Musichetta are here, too. Remind me to introduce you to the ginger," Bahorel adds.

Eponine drags Grantaire inside, where Marius is, along with someone mixing drinks.

"Holy shit, it's Grantaire," Courfeyrac says. Grantaire grins, and Courfeyrac jumps up from the couch to pull him into a hug. "How's school, Eponine?" he asks, passing her a drink.

"Tests to take, papers to write, books to read," she replies. "The usual."

"You look familiar," he says to Grantaire. "Who's this?" the stranger asks Courfeyrac. Grantaire thinks that he's probably the guy Bahorel was talking about, since his hair color is bright orange.

"This is Grantaire," Courfeyrac says.

"Wait, like--Grantaire? The one who hates Rousseau and has a pun for a name?" the ginger asks, and once Grantaire nods, he walks away, laughing hysterically.

"What was that about?" Grantaire asks Courfeyrac, looking from him to Eponine.

"No idea, Bahorel brought him," Courfeyrac says. "Oh! Okay, so, this is Marius." He motions for the freckled guy to come. "I met him a couple months ago, and then I brought him to that group I've been telling you about," Courfeyrac tells Grantaire.

Bahorel's front door opens, letting in cold air.

"Combeferre!" the ginger shouts. But Grantaire isn't looking at the guy with brown hair and glasses. No, he's looking at the angel who's walking in next to him.

Slowly, their eyes meet.

"Um, Grantaire, this is Enjolras. Enjolras this is Grantaire," Courfeyrac says, looking between the two.

Grantaire nods, grinning and not breaking eye contact. Then, he speaks.

"I know."

**Author's Note:**

> if you know which movie this is from then 5 points for you  
> thank you for reading i hope you enjoyed it!!


End file.
